Done With Everything
by ThisPerson1
Summary: 212 Wobble Street was supposed to be their new home, a place where they could regroup and try to become a band again. For 2D, however, the place is nothing more than another torture chamber. There's only so much one man can take before it all comes crashing down. Set during Do Ya Thing. Spiritual successor to Sick of Everything.


**A/N: Ok, so I reread Sick of Everything a little while ago and decided to do something similar. This time it's set during Do Ya Thing, where 2D seems to have reached maximum depression levels and the band isn't much of a band anymore. You don't necessarily have to read Sick of Everything to understand this but just know that it's referenced here so you might want to. And yes, I know the title isn't very creative but hey-at least I got a theme going. Hope you enjoy.**

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2D took a long drag from his cigarette and let it out, watching as the smoke curled in front of his face before dissipating into the cool, crisp air. He was sitting on the front steps of 212 Wobble Street wondering just what in the world he should do with himself. He'd just gotten off work and was ready to head in and relax for the rest of the evening when he remembered a few things.

First off was that Noodle wasn't home yet. She'd recently gotten a job and often worked much later than he did, much to his and Russel's chagrin. Neither had wanted her to go out into the harsh world so soon after everything that she'd been through. She'd insisted though, saying that they didn't have any other choice. They'd just been evicted and, unless they could somehow scrape up the money for rent, would have to leave by the end of the month. 2D was doing all he could at the driving school but it simply wasn't enough. Russel wasn't physically able to work, still being far too huge to get anywhere properly, and Murdoc had made it very clear that he wasn't doing shit. That left Noodle.

The second thing he remembered was that Murdoc was home. He didn't want to be alone with him and his horrid temper. Despite everything that had happened after they left Plastic Beach-the tears, the apologies, the mostly re-kindled relationships-the man still seemed disgusted with him, as if it was his fault that everything had come crashing down. Really, it was those pirates. It wasn't like you could tell him anything though. The bassist was notorious for a lot of things, and being too damn arrogant to admit his mistakes was certainly high on the list. Not to mention that he could be quite the cold-hearted bastard. One would think that the man would feel the slightest bit of remorse after everything he put the singer through, but no. It was brutally obvious how much he hated poor 2D and even more so how much he wanted to keep torturing him. The man had been through enough to make anyone go completely insane, and while the matter of his sanity was up for debate, he wasn't nearly as unstable as most would be.

"Hey, faceache!" Murdoc's shout startled him out of his thoughts. The front door swung open before 2D could move and the bassist caught sight of him doing the one thing he hated: relaxing. Murdoc's glare lasted all of two seconds before he kneed the younger man in the back of the head as hard as possible. Once the singer was somewhat recovered he grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him up to face him. "Sleeping on the job, eh?" he snarled.

"I wasn't sleepin', Muds, I-"

"Shut it!" He gave 2D a hard shake. "We got a house to try and keep and here you are sittin' on your ass! You should be out trying to get more money!"

"I JUST got off work, Murdoc! That _is_ bringing in money. Why don't you go do something besides sit around and chug booze all day?!"

"Why you-"

"ENOUGH!" Russel's voice rumbled, setting off car alarms. "Muds, get your drunken shit-ass back in the house and leave D alone. The man's had a long day at work so if he wants to sit around and smoke his lungs out, let him. He's doin' way more than you've ever done in your life. Because of your lazy ass we gotta have poor Noodle out there late, trying to bring in a little extra cash."

"And just what are you doing, tub lard?! Oh right, caving in the roof like King Kong on vacation!" Russel leaned over and sent one menacing glare at Murdoc that just dared him to continue. Thankfully, he didn't and instead growled at 2D before heading back inside. Russel sighed and rolled onto his back, the building creaking in protest. They all knew that he would gladly be out helping them if it weren't for his condition.

"Thanks, Russ," 2D sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Don't mention it. You alright?"

"'Course I am." Why wouldn't he be? His life was just so amazing, after all. He got to get up at the ass-crack of dawn, head down to a raggedy old building that used to be a middle school, let a bunch of ignorant ingrates get behind the wheel of a car, and then pray to anyone who'd listen that he wouldn't die in a wreck. Oh yeah, and once he got off work he had a certified jackass to come home to and sources on where he could move to look through. Wonderful.

It took Russel a few moments to think of how to word his response. "You sure?" was the best he could come up with.

"Why do you think I'm not?" 2D asked, slightly annoyed at the man's badgering. What was it to him if he wasn't OK? Was he gonna give him a hug and tell him it'd be just fine? The bluenette snorted.

"You just seem... off. I'm just makin' sure nothing's wrong."

"Well, I think you've made sure enough today, Russ." The singer stomped out his cigarette and stretched. Realizing just how un-right he sounded with that, he added, "Thanks for gettin' Muds of my back, mate. Sorry for the grouchiness. I'm just aggravated now, y'know?"

"I hear ya. He should've slinked into the basement by now, so I think you'll be safe if you wanna go inside. It's gettin' pretty cool out." There was a chilling breeze starting and at this time of year it would be a poor choice to stay out in it longer than necessary.

"Good point. See ya, Russ." The giant man responded with a grunt as the building creaked beneath him. By the sounds of it, he was trying to curl himself up in an effort to keep warm. 2D felt sorry for him as there was nothing he could do to help. Sighing, he went inside and was relieved to see that Murdoc had indeed vanished into the basement. He made a beeline for his room before the man decided to show up again.

Shutting the door, 2D sat down on the bed and held his head in his hands. These were supposed to be some of the best years of his life and yet all he knew was pain and misery. Feeling the beginnings of a migraine, the bluenette reached for one of the bottles on his nightstand.

The variety of pills he kept had increased over the years, from painkillers to sleep aids, anti-depressants to anxiety, and, more recently, a type of pill that was supposed to keep hallucinations at bay. Yes, it seemed that all his time with Murdoc was toxic to far more than just his physical health. Ever since Plastic Beach he'd been having horrible night terrors and sometimes even day terrors, as he'd suddenly find himself surrounded by his own worst fears without explanation. Shortly after the apparitions would vanish, leaving him standing numbly and in a cold sweat. He had managed to get a prescription for the pills from a random, slightly seedy doctor who was the father of one of his students at the driving school. It would've been easier to go straight to his mother but he felt she didn't need to know just how miserable he actually was. It'd probably break her heart to find out her only son had seemingly slipped into some sort of psychosis or even developed a form of schizophrenia from the one thing that he always thought would've made him happy.

Arguably though, the pills were helping. He hadn't had too many hallucinations in a while. Now, if only there was a medicine to rid himself of Murdoc.

 _There is,_ he thought.

2D shook his head. No. No way was he going through _that_ again. He'd promised Noodle that he would never, _ever_ pull a stunt like that again for the rest of his life. He shuddered as he remembered the awful thoughts flowing through his mind that day and the feeling of his life fading away. Even more gut-wrenching to him was the fact that he could easily imagine young Noodle's reaction to seeing him in a such a state. They were like siblings and nothing would hurt one more than to lose the other.

"Who was I to do that to Noods? And all because of stupid Murdoc. I was so selfish." He sighed. The whole occurrence still troubled him deeply and he was disgusted with himself to find that he was beginning to fall back into that frame of mind. He looked at the bottle of painkillers in his hand and then at the rest of the pills.

Could anyone blame him, really? Just a single glance at what his life's become would make most people understand. He felt meaningless. Noodle was his only real comfort anymore, but recently even her everlasting youthful happiness was beginning to lose its effect. With Murdoc's increasing animosity towards him and the shattered aftermath of Plastic Beach, the bluenette was starting to question if living was really worth it anymore. They weren't a family, not now, and they weren't even a band anymore. The tiny threads that had once attempted to hold them together tore themselves to shreds years back and only now did the people they were connected to realize it. It had only taken them this long to figure out that there was nothing keeping them close and that they too should untangle themselves from each other and move on. The only question left was how each would do it...

"Dammit!" 2D clenched the bottle as tightly as he could before hurtling it at the wall. The childproof lock prevented the pills from scattering everywhere, which further infuriated him. He just wanted to vent his anger by watching a handful of multicolored meds tumble through the air like twisted confetti and he couldn't even get that.

Not letting anything stop him, he grabbed another bottle and opened it first before lobbing it at the same spot as the other. This time the contents went flying out along the way and by the time the orange tube hit the wall most of the pills were gone. The singer glared at the trail of blue circles as though all of his problems stemmed from them. And in a perverse sort of way, they did. If he hadn't become so addicted to those painkillers then perhaps he may have had the state of mind to understand Murdoc's true nature and flee from the man before anything else could go wrong. He'd already gotten him in two car accidents with severe consequences, not to mention all the abuse he'd given him in between. What on earth made him stay and keep putting up with the increasingly brutal treatment?

Looking back on it all, he now realized just how much of a junkie he'd become. He was even worse than Murdoc, and that man had done it all. He'd had the painkillers well before they'd met. As long as he could remember, actually. Only now, it had gotten so much worse.

2D took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. Suddenly noticing his face was wet, he swiped at it and saw that it was tears. He'd been crying. "Stupid Murdoc..." he muttered, fighting back sobs. The struggle lasted all of thirty seconds before he surrendered and broke down into pitiful wailing and whining. "Stupid pills... T-this is-is all your f-fault..." Truthfully, the fault was his own. And he was well-aware of that.

Deciding it wouldn't matter if Murdoc heard him, he scooped up every bottle on the nightstand and cursed them all before sending each one-and everything inside-soaring throughout his bedroom. "I hate these pills! I hate this sodding house! I hate my job! I hate everything!" In his wild rant he ended up stepping on some of the pills and crushing them to dust, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to let the world know how much he hated life right now.

"I hate Murdoc too! Can you hear me you green-skinned bastard?! I fucking hate you! If you died right now I'd celebrate! After everything you've done to me I oughta be the one to kill you! So fuck you, Murdoc, fuck you! Fuck fuck FUCK!" The bluenette's rage at the floorboards was ended abruptly by a coughing fit. Having finished searing his vocal chords he took a few shaky breaths to calm himself before collapsing in front of the bed, feeling exhausted.

Despite the noise his pirate radio station produced at times, it was still very easy for Murdoc to occasionally hear what was happening in the rest of the flat. So when 2D began screaming obscenities he had to stop and wonder just what in the world was going on with him. It wasn't until the words were directed at him that he decided to get up and do something.

"Hey, faceache! I know I didn't just hear what I think I heard, right?" Murdoc called from outside 2D's bedroom door. There was no response. Murdoc assumed it was because the singer was too afraid to answer. Not one to let things go, he opened the door and barged in.

Seeing 2D's current state was more than enough to make him swallow whatever threats he may have had. There he was, curled in the middle of his room in the fetal position with nearly every pill he owned scattered all around him. The sight alone was gut-wrenching enough; the pathetic sobs and whimpers only made it worse.

The bassist took a few tentative steps toward him. "Hey... You... You alright there, mate?" In any other circumstance he'd never be this kind. This one was the exception to the rule. "2D?" he tried again, this time placing a hand on his shoulder. No response. Not even an acknowledgement to his presence. Clearly this problem was far more severe than what he'd originally thought.

"You wanna talk about it?" he offered, scraping some pills aside so he could sit. The singer curled himself even tighter. Well, it was better than nothing. "Listen, I... I heard what you said. If this is about earlier..."

"It's not." Murdoc was surprised he'd actually gotten a response. He scooted himself closer and leaned over a bit so he could hear him better.

"What's it about then?" The younger man merely sighed and closed his eyes. Well, he was younger by years but now that Murdoc could see some of his face he noticed that he looked much older than he should. Maybe it was just the shadows. Or his eyes. Yeah, it was definitely his eyes playing tricks on him. He swallowed the lump in his throat that was starting to feel suspiciously like guilt.

"I don't want to talk about this, Muds. Especially not with you." Even though he sounded worn out the bassist could easily detect the spite hidden in the words. He looked around at the mess in 2D's room before coming back to him. There was no way he could leave him like this. He didn't need another hospital trip.

"I get it, ok? Obviously this has to do with me. Well, here I am, so let's fix this mess already." The singer snorted.

"'Fix this mess'? There's no fixing it, Murdoc. It's been broken for years. You just happened to remember how you swept it under the rug." Murdoc couldn't help the nagging feeling that the singer was referring to himself. That guilt lump was starting to return.

"U-um... 2D? I never-uh-meant to... What I mean is... It's not like that, 'kay? I... I wasn't-"

"Forget it." 2D held himself tight and tried to pretend that the other man wasn't there. It didn't work for long.

"What happened with all your pills?" He wanted nothing more than to stop the previous conversation because continuing it would be admitting the guilt was there.

"What's it look like?" The bluenette wanted to yell it, wanted to show how much it angered him, but his throat was too raw for anything other than a whisper.

Murdoc didn't have a proper response. Stating the obvious would be unnecessary and trying to make a joke would be too inappropriate, even for him. So he stayed quiet. So did 2D. The two of them just sat there silently for what felt like hours when it was really just a few minutes. It wasn't until Murdoc came to an uneasy conclusion that the silence was broken.

"You don't think this is all my fault, do you?" It was the most sincere he'd ever sounded in his entire life. It was also the most vulnerable.

"What do you mean?" Murdoc's tone surprised him.

"Don't play dumb. You know what I mean, but I'll spell it out for you anyway." He spread his arms out wide, gesturing to the medical mishap of the singer's floor.

"Y-" 2D stopped himself there. Did he really think that? Was Murdoc really the cause for all of his problems, or did the blame fall entirely on him? The painkillers were always a factor, but could he say that the bassist alone was the sole reason his addiction got so out of hand? Sure, he could be blamed for the drinking and every physical trauma he's ever had but what about the rest? Murdoc didn't make him start on sleep aids and anti-depressants and everything else. It was his own ridiculous reliance on drugs that caused the whole thing to spiral so far out of control.

...Right?

Murdoc sat silently as he waited for 2D's response. Judging by the way he'd cut himself off he must've really wanted to think about it before he said anything rash. In the time it was taking the singer to formulate a reply he did some thinking of his own. Was it all his fault? Did every little thing he ever did and said amount to this? The thought harshly reminded him of his father and he now saw just how similar to him he had become. No. Even worse. They were the exact same person.

The bassist realized how shaky his breathing was getting and stood up before 2D had the chance to notice it himself. "Look, Stu. Why don't you take some time to think about this, eh? Sleep on it or somethin'. I'll-uh-be downstairs." It took all the strength he had left to keep his voice steady. He left without waiting for an answer.

2D listened to the heavy thumps of Murdoc's boots as he made his way back into his basement lair. He half-heartedly chuckled to himself as he thought how it was one of the very few days the man had actually bothered to get fully dressed. That small amount of humor vanished once he took in the sight of his room.

 _I should probably get this cleaned up before Noodle gets home,_ he thought. Groaning a bit as he got up, he walked over to retrieve the bottles first before trying to scoop what pills he could find back into the appropriate ones. He gave up after a few minutes because most of the meds had been eaten by the clutter that was his room. Quickly taking stock he saw that he'd basically just lost half of his pills and what wasn't lost was useless dust on the floor. The same sick thought as earlier passed through his mind again but this time he discarded it and went to lie down on the bed. He could get rid of headaches the old-fashioned way.

Noodle came home around eleven thirty and was not surprised to see that Russel was already sound asleep. She'd heard his snoring four blocks back. She wished him good night before heading inside. After kicking off her shoes and hanging her jacket on the coat rack she was ready to retire herself until she caught sight of Murdoc sitting on the couch staring blankly at the TV. Which was turned off. Along with nearly every other light in the room.

"Murdoc-san?" She walked over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Noods," he said without bothering to look at her.

"What're you doing?" While it wasn't exactly odd for him to be up at this hour it was a bit strange that he was sitting in a dark room seemingly waiting for her. Usually Russel or 2D were the ones to stay up late for her arrival.

Murdoc merely shrugged in response. Noodle sighed, thinking he was drunk. "I ain't drunk, luv. Hadn't had much to drink since eight."

"That's... unusual for you. Are we all out of alcoholic beverages?" She came around the couch to sit next to him. Something wasn't right.

"No."

"Murdoc-san, please tell me what's wrong. You're acting very weird and I can't stand this feeling that there's something going on." When he wouldn't look at her she forcefully grabbed his arm and gave it a yank. "Murdoc!"

"I think you should go talk to 2D," he said, still refusing to look at her directly.

"Why? What's happened?" She couldn't help the raising of her voice. With the way the bassist was acting, she was worried there was some sort of accident.

"He's hurting, luv. A lot. I don't really know what to do about it. I thought maybe you could..." He finished with a wave of his hand, unable to come up with an actual word.

"What do you mean by hurting? Did you-"

"It's not my fault!" he yelled, finally looking at her. He turned away almost immediately but that lone instant where she caught sight of his face revealed how he really felt. Harsh words were just his defense mechanism.

"Murdoc," she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for accusing you." He merely looked in the opposite direction. The guitarist didn't need to see his face to know why. "I'll go talk to him, don't worry." She got up to make her way to the singer's bedroom. "Murdoc-san," she said suddenly, turning back.

Murdoc simply stared at her, that pained look not able to escape his eyes.

"Don't beat yourself up so much. It's not all your fault, so please stop thinking that." Noodle left then, leaving the bassist to mull over the words.

"Hmph. What am I supposed to think then? Huh, luv?" He stared accusingly at his own hands.

"Stu? Are you still in there?" He didn't answer her. Biting her lip, the guitarist tried not to let too many what-ifs go through her mind. "If you don't at least answer me... I'll just have to barge in on you." Still nothing. Fighting back tears of worry she went for the door only to find it locked. "Stuart please!" she choked out, all kinds of possibilities running wild now.

Suddenly the door swung open, revealing a very tired-looking 2D. "'Sup, luv?" It was the best he could do at sounding casual. Without warning Noodle hugged him as tightly as possible, afraid that he would disappear. "I'm sorry for makin' you worry, Noods," he whispered into her hair while wrapping his arms around her. He couldn't hide the shame he felt for his actions.

"Please, Toochi. Talk to me. If you tell me what's wrong then I can help you. We all can." The singer said nothing. "Please," she tried again. "I saw Murdoc downstairs. He was really upset. Actually, he was worried about you. He felt awful, I could tell." She decided to spare the bassist's pride by leaving out the part where he'd been crying.

"Muds... was worried? About me?" No. That couldn't be right. Crocodile tears, his darker side was saying.

"Very much so, yes." She finally released him so she could see his face. "As a matter of fact, he blames himself."

2D couldn't stop himself from snorting in disbelief. Seeing Noodle's frown deepen made him regret it. "Sorry. It's just... I find that kinda hard to believe." There was a bitterness in his voice that made the guitarist worry even more. Something had obviously happened but it wasn't a scenario she was able to figure out on her own. She hadn't gotten many details so far and from the looks of it, it was a very intricate matter. She feared she wouldn't be able to understand it at all.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"About what?" The deepening lines in his face told her not to continue. But she had to.

"About what happened earlier. Between you and Murdoc." She waited for him to step aside and let her into his room, to sit down next to her and talk.

2D chewed his lip, contemplating. This was Noodle. He could tell her anything in the world and she'd be able to comfort him. Guide him. So why wasn't he telling her? There she was, waiting expectantly. Patiently. And yet the words weren't coming. The action of motioning her inside wasn't happening. He'd done it so many times before that it could easily run on autopilot, so why wasn't it working now? Or maybe that was the problem. Now that he had a real concern to talk about-one that was very personal-he had to actually talk to her himself. Make the decision to let her in both his room and his thoughts on his own. Still, it shouldn't be this hard. He'd talked to her about all sorts of personal problems before. So why couldn't he now?

The bluenette grit his teeth in frustration. Why couldn't he get himself to say it?! Wouldn't it make everything so much easier if he just talked to her? Was he... afraid to?

Noodle stood silently while 2D struggled in some sort of internal battle. Why he was even struggling was a bit beyond her though. Surely he wanted to talk to her. Right? He'd never hesitated before. This was beginning to scare her. What could have possibly happened to make him act like this? Was it about her somehow? Is that why he seemed afraid of her? Or was it something else? Was it linked to whatever had happened while she was gone? The scenario that she wasn't able to work out?

Deciding that the two of them losing themselves in their thoughts would do no good, Noodle reached out and held the singer's hand. Startled, he snapped out of his daze and refocused on her. "Noods?" he said quietly before she could open her mouth, his voice wavering slightly.

"Yes?" She couldn't bear to hear the strain in his voice.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I can't..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't think I can tell you about it yet." He gave her the saddest look she'd ever seen before gently slipping his hand out of hers. He started to retreat into his room.

"Stuart?" she whispered, utterly shocked at his behavior. He gave her a little wave and an apologetic smile before quietly shutting the door. She just stood there, not having the slightest idea of how to react. 2D had _never_ done that before. He would never just close himself off like that. Or at least, that's what she used to think.

In a mortified daze, Noodle turned away from the singer's door and went to her own room. She hardly remembered changing out of her day clothes, brushing her teeth, or lying down in her bed. All she knew was that she was in her dark room and the ceiling wasn't giving her any answers.

2D rolled over and slapped a hand over the alarm clock before it had even started beeping. He stared blankly at the red numbers before groaning and dragging himself out of bed. He hadn't slept at all last night, the stress from yesterday refusing to leave him be. At one point he had managed to close his eyes but the frightening images that followed jolted him upright before he even dozed off. With a heavy sigh he trudged into the bathroom and splashed some cold water over his face in a vain attempt to refresh himself. He then made the mistake of looking into the mirror. His eyes had dark bags under them and his skin was an unhealthy pale that would put a ghost to shame. In his groggy state he was unable to block out the self-depreciating thoughts of his appearance and ended up putting himself in a bitter mood. He showered and combed through his tangled hair as best as he cared to try, all the while doing his best to resist any more urges to down himself. Then he remembered Noodle.

2D froze just as he was about to exit the bathroom and enter the hallway when he realized that he'd have no way to avoid the guitarist. They usually got up around the same time because she liked to make breakfast or clean; she was always one for getting a head start on the day. And of course today was one of the very few where she got a day shift, so of course she'd be up already. It was rare she slept in, even if she needed it. And after last night, she'd almost certainly be hanging around, much too worried about 2D to focus on anything else. And then there was the matter of Murdoc...

The singer shook his head, took a breath, and steeled himself for whatever was to come. They couldn't afford him to be late after all. He made his way down to the kitchen and was greeted by an empty room. Murdoc was nowhere to be seen, which would've been less strange if the singer could hear the radio downstairs. But he didn't. It was totally silent, which meant that the bassist must have gone out.

So he was avoiding him now? Nice. So much for feeling guilty.

"Noodle?" 2D called, feeling an uncomfortable knot form in his stomach at the thought of her avoiding him as well. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Perhaps his had the time wrong somehow and he was up earlier than he should've been. After taking three full minutes to determine that he was not losing his mind he marched back upstairs to go peek into the guitarist's room. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, as he always checked up on her whenever she was in there, and the normalcy of the action actually made him feel a bit better about his predicament. Until he opened the door and saw that her room was vacant.

Now he was getting worried. Murdoc disappearing was a little offensive after everything that had happened but it wasn't exactly strange. Noodle though... What would be next? Would he walk outside and see that even Russel had abandoned his spot on the roof? No. He couldn't think about this right now. After what he'd done to Noodle she had every right to give him the silent treatment. And he was leaving it at that. Right now he had to get to work.

2D headed to the foyer, put on his jacket and shoes, and was just about to walk out the door when something stopped him. That something came in the form of a cold chill running up his spine. What if... the others were planning something? Maybe they left because they thought he was becoming unstable again and they wanted to bring him help before it was too late. Maybe his actions had... dampened their faith in him.

The singer shook his head profusely. Where had such a ridiculous idea even come from? He wasn't crazy and his bandmates certainly didn't have that idea either! He hadn't done anything of the sort for some years now. So why did he feel like...

He hadn't had anything for breakfast. That's what it was. He was exhausted because he hadn't slept a wink last night and the fact that he was running on empty wasn't doing much to help him. His stress wasn't doing him any favors either. He was _not_ falling back into that emotionally damaged state again. Although his odd hunch did feel like it had some truth to it.

"My pills..." he muttered, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. It probably wouldn't hurt to have a few on him, just in case. With a heavy sigh he went back upstairs to retrieve one of the many bottles off his nightstand. Except they weren't there. "What the...?" All of his pills were gone. Which was worrying because he had certainly seen them when he woke up. That meant that someone had just now cleaned out the place. Feeling his migraine worsen he desperately ransacked his room to find even one tiny med, even if it wasn't for headaches. It was then that he saw the note. And of all the people...

"Noodle!" he screamed, brutally wounded. It wasn't because she had taken every type of pill he owned and disposed of them. It was because she had feared for his safety and had done so. As if he could no longer be trusted with anything because he was in a sour mood. And _that_ hurt more than anything else.

In his state of mind he could not realize how she had done it to protect him from himself because she knew that they would likely be having another _incident_ if she did not. All he saw was the final blow before it struck him down. Murdoc he could handle. He'd been handling him for years although he was no longer certain just what 'handle' meant when it came to him. Russel was hardly part of the equation. A buddy, a very nice one usually, but not a _friend._ Had either of them been the culprits it wouldn't have mattered. It probably wouldn't have even hurt.

But Noodle...

Before he knew it he was sitting on the floor crying. For her to fear for his health and safety was one thing. Losing all faith and trust in him and treating him like a deranged child was something else entirely. And by God did it _hurt._ "If she doesn't even trust me with my own pills... she probably doesn't even trust me to get to work safely," he spat. "She's probably out there in the driveway, waiting to give me a ride in some rental car." The sadness soon dissolved into anger. "Well fine! I'll show her! I'm a big boy, I can make my own decisions!" In a burst of bitter rage he kicked the lamp off his bedside table and watched with disturbed satisfaction as it shattered across the floor. His leg would surely bruise but he didn't care. He stormed out of the house to head to work.

His own decisions indeed...

"I'm so sorry I'm late, sir, I-"

"Don't even worry about it, girlie! Just get your skinny little ass to work before I kick it out of here!"

Noodle bit her tongue to avoid saying anything regretful and nodded. Mr. Burnwick was known for being an absolute bastard in every sense of the term and she did not need to lose her sole source of income by finally telling him what he could do with those bottles behind the bar. Though it would be both satisfying and somewhat relaxing to be able to vent her pent up anger and frustration on something with very little regrets. She felt terrible for what she did to 2D. Taking all his pills behind his back like that... She was almost positive he wasn't taking it well.

With a heavy sigh she blew her bangs out of her eyes for a moment before grabbing her notepad and things and setting out to go take people's orders. She should at least pretend to be friendly, even if most of the patrons were the proverbial trash of the streets.

"Okay, Susie, I'm going to go take my break now." The raven-haired waitress nodded and, with a friendly smile, told her to go enjoy.

Noodle fell into the chair with a grunt. Thankfully, the break room was empty save for herself. She desperately needed some peace and quiet for a short while. She was only three hours into her nine hour shift and already she had been chewed out by her boss twice. She wasn't even the one to blame in either scenario.

First, one of the regulars accused her of 'looking at her funny' which was utterly ridiculous. Noodle always made sure to wear a smile on her face that no one but close friends would be able to recognize as fake. Besides, even if she had given her a glare or two from behind her bangs, she doubted that cross-eyed bimbo would even notice, as she was much too busy trying to get just about every male she saw to notice her. Nearly everyone looked at her strangely because for someone who always blatantly paid in one pound bills and damn near peeled her clothes off on the spot for any man in her sight she sure liked to act like she was all sweet and innocent and _not_ a slut. Although in said slut's defense, Noodle may have told all this to her boss's face when he was scolding her in the back. Needless to say, it didn't help things.

An hour after that fun little party another regular thought it might be funny if he were to trip her while she was carrying about six different stacks of dirty dishes. That didn't go over any better than her last predicament, especially since one innocent's clothes were ruined in the process. Then, while she was still cleaning up the mess of glass and food, she started to feel sick with worry. The uncomfortable knot in her stomach wasn't caused by natural means. Every fiber of her being knew it had something to do with 2D. She sensed a disturbance in the Force, so to speak.

Even now, she still felt that something was wrong. She tried to tell herself that he was extremely hurt at worst, but then that thought turned into something that savagely gnawed at her insides.

 _Just how hurt is he?_ she thought. _He wouldn't be willing to... No! I already took all of his pills._ But not his switchblades, the fear reminded her. _T-there's nothing left for him to... to kill himself..._

Nothing but the knives, the shower, Murdoc's gun. The list could go on endlessly. Noodle gulped to force down the bile that rose in her throat. Surely 2D wasn't that hurt, was he? She pulled at her hair in an effort to think of anything else. Anything but the morbid images of finding 2D dead.

"Noodle!" he'd scream if she caught him in the act. The extension cord fell to the floor. "I was just-"

"Toochi how could you?!" she screamed, not realizing it was Susie's shocked face she was yelling at.

The young woman looked on in worry and slight fear as she watched poor Noodle sob helplessly into her hands. "Noodle?" she tried again, this time much more gently. She walked over and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. The violet-haired woman looked up.

"S-Susie? What are you doing here?" She sniffled. "I told you I was taking my break."

"About that..." she started, feeling her heart clench up at the sight of the normally strong girl she'd come to know. "It's been well over fifteen minutes. Mr. Burnwick was starting to notice your absence. I figured I'd come get you before he got mad again."

Noodle merely nodded pitifully before wiping her tears away. She went to stand up but Susie stopped her. "If something's going on... I think you should talk about it. Mr. Burnwick can wait."

"Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble." She sniffled again and swallowed another round of crying.

"I'm sure he'll live. Like you always want to say, fuck him." Noodle had to laugh a little at that. Susie was a true friend and should they both lose their jobs for this, she was gonna make damn sure that at least the other woman's income was secured shortly after.

"Thank you, Susie," Noodle said.

"No problem. Now, what's the matter? I've never seen you like this and frankly, I really wish I hadn't. That was absolutely painful." Noodle could tell by her voice that she sincerely meant what she said.

"It's my friend," she started, unsure of how to explain. "He's... he's hurting. I'm not really sure why or how he's been handling it alone but..." She took a very deep breath, held it, and then let it out before starting up again. "Something's really wrong, I can tell. I'm not sure if something happened or if it all just boiled over-I think it's a little of both, honestly." She unglued her eyes from the table to glance over at Susie. She was listening very intently and was clearly as scared for her friend as she was.

Noodle took another breath. How was she supposed to explain the pills and everything else to someone who didn't fully understand her, let alone the people she'd never meant. "You're so empathetic," she mumbled, not meaning to say it out loud. Her eyes widened beneath her bangs.

"What?" Susie asked, startled.

"I said you're empathetic." Maybe it was high time she started letting some of her thoughts be known. "You're so empathetic that... perhaps I can let you in on this little secret. You'd more than likely understand." Her voice was no longer holding back sobs but it was still clear that what she was going to say was difficult. "It's deeply personal and while I wouldn't hate you for telling anyone I don't think I would ever speak to you again if you did."

Susie merely nodded, not used to seeing this side of Noodle at all.

"My friend? He's got a bit of a problem with his pills. I would call it an addiction but he-"

"There you are!" Both women jumped at the sudden appearance of an outraged Burnwick. "I see that the two of you are neglecting your duties! If you don't stop slacking and get back out there I'll-"

Noodle promptly walked over and slapped him. She was in a horrid mood from her worry over 2D and this man was her breaking point. "Listen here you filthy _swine_ ," she sneered, bringing his face to hers with a deadly grip on his collar. "I've had enough of your bullshit to fertilize a field. First off, I quit. Second, your mother's a worthless slut and is probably the very same one that's sitting out there right now. And finally, FUCK YOU! Oh. And that swill you serve at the bar? I'll tell you where you can serve it next!"

Five minutes later saw Noodle storming out of the place in an angry huff. She was out of a job and almost certainly wouldn't be able to attain another and save up enough for rent now, but she simply didn't care. She felt better after having finally told that man off. She also had plenty of time to make sure 2D was okay and hopefully save him from his demons before-

"Hey, Noodle! Wait up!" The Asian woman stopped and turned to see Susie trotting after her.

"Are you crazy? Mr. Burnwick will almost certainly fire you now after-"

"I wouldn't worry about it." She brushed some of her hair behind one ear with a grin.

"You didn't." Noodle would feel awful if she had been the cause of Susie's resignation.

"I did. And don't worry about me," she said, bringing up a hand to stop the woman in her tracks. "I'll admit. I found your... speech... rather inspiring, but truth be told I had enough of that man months ago. I just never worked up the nerve. Besides, you need to go help your friend before he does anything stupid."

Noodle sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. Personally, she felt like he already had done something. The tears started streaming again. Susie wordlessly pulled her close and hugged her. "Listen. I do understand. More than you think." At this, Noodle was surprised. However, she refrained from saying anything. "I don't need to have empathy to know that this is excruciating for you. It's clear you care about this man more than anything in the world so I don't know why you're wasting so much time. Go find him and stop him before something happens. And... on the off chance that something already has... I highly recommend you save him before it's too late." She let go and Noodle quickly wiped away her tears before straightening up and giving her friend a soft smile.

"Thank you so much, Susie. I promise I won't forget this."

"Time," she reminded. Noodle nodded and ran back to the dingy apartment she called home.

"Baby girl!" Russel shouted as soon as he saw Noodle approach. "Listen-"

"Not now, Russ! I have to make sure Stu is alright!" She all but leapt onto the porch, however, Russel's large hand stopped her from entering. "What are you doing, Russel-san?"

"That's just it, Noods. D ain't home. He left for work like always this morning." Well, not like always, but he wasn't sure how to explain that to the frantic guitarist.

As if reading his mind she said, "What happened? Don't try to sugarcoat it Russel-san. I'm old enough now and I've certainly been through enough to handle the truth," she added when it looked like he might lie.

The giant man just sighed, an ordinary gesture that turned into a downward breeze for those around him. "He didn't seem right. I heard him shouting and then breaking something before he left. I tried talkin' to him but he wouldn't hear me. He just kept goin' like a man on a mission."

"And you didn't go after him?!" She burrowed her face in the palm of his hand, knowing full-well why he didn't. She wasn't trying to make him feel guilty; she was just hurting too much to keep it in anymore. She was terrified.

"Please, baby girl. You know why." He picked her up and held her, wiping away her tears with surprising gentleness, given his current state.

"It seems all I've done today is cry," she said bitterly. "Put me down. I've had enough of this. Where is Murdoc-san? We're going to solve this once and for all." Finding new determination, she headed inside to find the bassist. As soon as she reached for the door to the basement the phone rang.

Murdoc sat in the farthest corner of the bar hopelessly chugging glass after glass of alcohol. He wasn't even sure what he was drinking anymore. All he knew was that the waitress and the bartender had gotten quite sick of him and decided to just give him several bottles of what he hoped was the cheapest stuff. He was on his third and yet he still couldn't get 2D out of his mind. All he could think about was how pitiful the man had looked last night. Lying on the floor in a broken heap, sobbing pathetically with pills scattered all around him. Only now in his drunken state of mind the memory was tainted by the pills taunting him. Whispering how it was all his fault before slowly melting into the singer's blood, the man no longer moving or breathing. 'You did this' was written on the wall in the crimson fluid.

Murdoc peeled his face off the table with a loud gasp. Looking around, he realized he had fallen asleep in the bar. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve before looking at the glass in front of him, still half full of the golden drink. His eyes scanned the table and took in the many bottles, a very small fraction already empty although that was no comfort when he recalled the many, many drinks he'd had before they brought them over. He couldn't remember how much he had drank to save his life and suddenly the sight of the surrounding alcohol was nauseating.

"What's wrong, Niccals?" a nasally voice sounded next to him. "You need more? Or did you just want some of the nicer stuff?"

Murdoc looked at the waitress like she was speaking another language. She was older, well into her fifties and showing it, and yet she still continued to work at places such as these. Normally he would've made some snide remark and been an absolute prick to her before attempting to offer make up sex (which never went well, mind you) but today he just stared.

"I ain't got all day, Murdoc," she snapped, although it was clear his unwavering gaze unsettled her.

The bassist once again took in all the alcohol he had surrounded himself with and became so absorbed in his drunken brooding that he didn't notice the waitress had left until she returned and smacked a large bottle of vodka on the table.

"Here," she said, sliding it towards him. "You look like you could really use it. Don't worry about the money and just drink." She walked off. Murdoc's stomach twisted uncomfortably as soon as the words left her mouth and he suddenly felt like throwing up.

Tearing whatever bills his hand grabbed from out of his wallet and slapping them on the table, he all but ran from the place. Ten disorienting minutes later saw him vomiting in an alley on a street he couldn't recall hearing of.

"The fuck is wrong with me?" he muttered, wiping his mouth. Since when could he not handle his liquor? Since when could he not handle anything? He was Murdoc Niccals, dammit, and nothing could come his way that he couldn't handle. So why was he heaving his guts out next to a dumpster like a sick dog?

 _Because you are one,_ he thought. _Very much so._ He noticed with quite a bit of disdain that his inner voice sounded more like his father than it did himself. Or perhaps he was so much like him that they basically counted as the same person. He wasn't really sure what to make of it. The only thing he was sure on was that something was very, very wrong. He didn't normally feel this way after abusing Stu. He hardly batted an eye during the Plastic Beach stint and did so even less when recalling it. Even now, there was hardly any remorse for his actions. He'd even bitch-slapped the man with a shoe for no other reason than wanting to hit him and the shoe being the first thing he saw. So either the guilt he should have been feeling (and that he was secretly trying to outrun) had finally caught up to him, or, on a much more horrifying note, he had just witnessed the unceremonious landing of a man in a dark chasm that he doubted was climbable. And, to make matters worse, he was the one who pushed him over the edge.

Murdoc spat out the last of the vile taste in his mouth before slowly straightening up and looking around. Now that some of the alcohol had left his body the haze in his mind lifted a fraction and he was just coherent enough to make out the sirens and feel the chills ripple up his spine like a beast of fear raking its claws along him.

Russel awoke to screaming and the sound of something breaking. That wasn't exactly unusual; Murdoc could have quite the temper. No, it was whose voice he had heard that was strange. The normally docile 2D hardly ever shouted and when he did it was in the middle of a very heated argument or in an attempt to stop one. And he was never one for reckless damage.

The front door opened and slammed shut and Russel leaned up a little just in time to see the singer start marching down the street. But something about him seemed off, his gait looking a little too determined.

"Yo, D," the drummer called, hoping the worry bubbling up inside him was unfounded. The singer did not respond and just kept walking. "D! Hey!" The only thing his shouting succeeded in was annoying the neighbors and causing dogs to bark relentlessly. 2D simply didn't want to listen. And so he watched the blue-haired man take his long strides down the sidewalk-the only normal thing about this scenario-until he could no longer see him.

Even after the singer was gone Russel still couldn't stop the nagging sensation of fear and worry eating at him. It grew and festered and with each passing moment he was fighting the urge to get up and go after the man. He kept telling himself that D was simply stressed; after the brief argument with Murdoc yesterday and all the pressure the eviction was putting on him it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

Snapped. That one word added so much fuel to the proverbial fire inside of Russel that he almost did get up to go after the singer. However, he stopped himself. The only thing keeping him grounded was the thought that if he did go up to 2D's job and he turned out to be just fine then he would've terrorized an entire city and a bunch of kids for nothing. And all because he was playing daddy to a grown man who was more than capable of handling his own problems.

Even if said problems were usually traumatic and the only solution he ever noted was a new variety of pill.

Russel frowned. He hadn't been around during Plastic Beach but he didn't need to be to know that whatever had happened was probably an atrocious act against humanity. Murdoc had been involved, after all. 2D still refused to give him the entire story and he seriously doubted that all of what Murdoc had told him was true. Of course, he had picked up more than enough information from multiple sources to piece together what happened. 2D had apparently been in Beirut-for whatever unfathomable reason-simply minding his own business and doing whatever it is he liked to when he was alone before Murdoc had him gassed and shipped to the island of floating garbage he dared to call a beach. And in a suitcase, of all things. 2D made certain everybody knew that.

After having kidnapped the poor singer, Murdoc then made sure to trap him in an underwater room, only letting him out when he needed him to sing for the album. Just to further torture the already damaged man, because El Manana apparently wasn't enough, he got a whale to guard him simply because he found the terror it caused him to be hilarious. And then there was that blasted hunk of metal that bastard dared to call Noodle. The thing should've considered itself lucky that the real Noodle had blown its head off on sight before butchering it because if he'd gotten to it first, it would've had far worse done to it.

And then there was the absolute mayhem that ensued shortly after. Pirates, explosions, an island sinking to the black depths of the ocean... 2D had been thrown smack in the middle of it and had damn near drowned. It was a true miracle he had even survived the ordeal at all, and with little to no injuries. Of the physical kind anyway.

Russel sighed as he thought about just how traumatized the singer had been after it. Once they found Murdoc again and had all holed up together they tried to fall back into some semblance of the sort-of-happy-almost-okay people they once were. They really, truly tried. But Murdoc was being as much of a dick as always, Russel was too ginormous to even be able to spend any time with them, they'd somehow shacked up with Murdoc's nemesis or whatever the heck the thing was, Noodle was still giving the bassist the coldest shoulder he'd ever seen, and 2D... 2D was the most fucked up of them all. Just because Russel slept on the roof didn't mean he couldn't hear what happened inside the flat. He could hear much more than he would've liked to. The first two weeks after they moved in the singer woke up every night screaming. And not in a normal sort of way. It was a purely terrified, frightful, blood-curdling howl that sounded almost inhuman. The fact that it was coming out of 2D's vocal chords did not make it sit any better with anyone. Eventually it stopped. He told them all how he'd gotten some meds for it and how he was fine and that they wouldn't be hearing anything from him again anytime soon.

It was only a joke then, meant to be taken lightly because his nightly shrieking was seriously starting to get to everyone-even the neighbors-and he just wanted them to know that he was indeed okay and that he wasn't having any more night terrors. But given the current series of events the words suddenly felt like some sort of warning. 2D had done it once before. And on such sort notice too. He'd seemed relatively fine until the usual fight with Murdoc had sent him spiraling over the edge. If it weren't for Noodle he would've died all those years ago. Now it seemed everything was starting back all over again. Only this time the singer had far more reasons than he had before to go through with it.

Russel shuddered, the building creaking and groaning as though it were begging him to stop and get off already. Now that he had entertained the idea of 2D committing suicide all the pieces fit themselves together and stayed that way. There were so many signs that the man had reached his limit. The horrid nightmares and screaming were the biggest, although now that he really thought about it he realized that were so many more. The way his eyes never really seemed to focus on anything-at least, according to Noodle-how he developed a constant need to check up on the guitarist, the way he'd been lashing out more often, yelling back at Murdoc with some particularly nasty comments that even the bassist himself was shocked to hear.

The way his shoulders slouched when he walked. Granted, 2D was always a sloucher, his spine seemingly not strong enough to properly support his height for long, but this new slouch of his just screamed depression. And, even more startling a sign was how he was rapidly losing weight. The already lanky man looking less lean and tall and more like an outstretched pile of bones covered in abnormally pale skin. To make that matter worse, it didn't look like he was getting a healthy diet either. Russel doubted the man was even eating a proper breakfast, instead opting to go on an empty stomach and maybe nibble a granola bar or eat half a bag of chips on the way to work.

The final warning sign was that 2D didn't seem particularly interested in anything anymore. If they tried to talk music he just sat there, responding with distant agreements or disagreements that were half-hearted at best. Despite all his fuss and worry over Noodle he hardly hung out with her like old times. Sure, that one could be attributed to them both being too busy with work but on the rare occasion they both had the day off he either went to his room or maybe, just maybe, he would sit and watch one of the movies they used to love. Although Noodle had told him that she could see the disinterest in his eyes and that it kind of hurt her, honestly. As of late, he seemed to even stop caring about himself.

Russel let out another heavy sigh as he rubbed his eyes, feeling like an absolute fool for not paying any attention to all this sooner. The singer had completely fallen apart and instead of helping the man pick up the pieces he chose to step around them and pretend that it didn't happen at all. Instead of trying to stop a rehash of their early years he simply let it happen all over again and now it was probably too late.

"What have I done?" he groaned. "I've let poor D suffer..." He rolled over to stare at the street in the vain hope that some sort of inspiration on what to do next would come. A few minutes later he saw Noodle running towards the flat.

"No... No. No. NO!" 2D slammed his fists on the dash, growling in frustration and giving his student a harsh glare. "For the hundredth time, Wilson, that is _not_ how you park the damn car! You see what you did there? That would've been someone's front bumper and I would be the very pissed off owner of it! Now pull the fucking car out and do it again right!" 2D all but shrieked to the boy, no older than sixteen.

Jacob Wilson, a meek yet headstrong boy, didn't argue and pulled the car back into its starting position. He then got out to go fix the cones he knocked over and to give his instructor some time to cool off. Normally, Stuart didn't yell at his students. He certainly got exasperated and yeah, he did spend a lot of time screaming in fear for his life but this was a whole new side of him. As he picked up the cone that represented the car behind him he looked back at the training vehicle and just stared. He'd never heard such language come from the usually placid man and, frankly, he was beginning to get scared. What in the world could be going on in his personal life for him to lash out this way? Wilson wasn't one to get involved in people's private affairs but he felt that this one should be the exception to the rule.

With a steady breath to calm himself he headed back to the car and got inside. Before he put the car into gear he turned to say something but the words caught in his throat the second he saw the vicious glare Stuart was giving him. Gulping, he decided that talking was not a good idea at all and instead focused on trying to get his job right, lest the blue-haired man next to him throw another fit. Wilson tried to keep himself steady and calm but the waves of anger radiated off his instructor like blankets of thick, suffocating smoke and no matter how hard he wanted to get it right he choked.

The pole, and the cone it was attached to, tipped precariously backwards when the rear bumper tapped it and even though Wilson hastily pulled the car up it still fell over and hit the ground with a harmless thump. In his frightened haste he'd pulled up too far too fast and the cone in front of him suffered the same fate. He braced himself for the inevitable explosion that would surely follow. And it was a good thing he did.

"You dumb son of a bitch!" 2D roared, his usually laughable voice sounding uncharacteristically menacing. "How the fuck can you screw this up so badly?! Why is it so damn hard for you to park one bloody car?!" He nearly pulled his hair out in frustration.

"I-I'm sorry-"

"You are sorry!" Wilson shrunk back. Stuart's eyes had never seemed frightening up until now. The abnormally black orbs showcased a demon someone as naïve as the teen would never have thought to be living inside of the man.

"P-please, Mr. Pot. Calm down..."

"NO! I will not calm down! If there's anything that'll make me calm down now it's death!" He suddenly stopped screaming and looked just as shocked as Wilson at his words. Then he turned away and said coldly, "Get your ass out of this car and fix the damn cones. Then get back in it and get. It. Right."

Wilson silently pulled the car out again and went to do as he was told. However, before he could put the first cone back into place he saw Stuart get out the car and slam the door.

"Stu-I mean, Mr. Pot?" He looked on in abject horror as the man ignored him and climbed into the driver's side. Before he could even process why he'd be doing such a thing the car sped off in a sea of smoke and screeching tires.

Wilson stood there numbly for a few moments before finally snapping out of it and coming to the realization that he had to do something, and fast. So he ran inside to tell the other instructors.

2D gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white, ignoring the honks and shouts of other drivers as he shot past them at ungodly speeds. There was nothing on his mind but the absolute misery he'd been feeling lately and the destroyed remains of what was once his happy-go-lucky self. Out came the self-depreciating thoughts again, only he didn't bother to stop them this time.

 _You're so useless. Relying on nothing but pills to solve all your problems. How pathetic. You're nothing but a worthless husk of a man. It's a wonder why they still even breathe the same air as you._

Tears trailed down his face as he made a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding crashing right then and there. He grit his teeth and continued to accelerate.

 _Stupid Murdoc,_ he thought. _This is all his fault. If that bastard hadn't gotten me in that car accident I'd be fine right now. Probably be living a good happy life with my family and maybe even Paula, if he didn't ruin that too. It's all his fault, all of it. Why did I have to be the one to suffer in that accident? Why not him?_

How ironic that he was planning on taking his life with another car accident.

"DAMMIT!" he screamed, hitting the on ramp for the freeway like a madman. He nearly collided with someone else in his blind fury. "Why did it have to be like this?! Why couldn't I get at least one shred of happiness in this life I got pulled into?! Why did I ever stay with that asshole?!"

 _Because you were too doped up to think clearly, stupid. Because you didn't care as long as you had your pills within reach._

The hot saltiness on his face severely hampered his vision but he could not bring himself to care. In fact, it was just the thing he was hoping for in the event that he would be unable to do it. Though he seriously doubted he'd be having any regrets. He was going around a hundred and ten miles an hour; he'd crash and burn sooner or later, regardless of whether or not it was his own doing.

He could hear the sirens over the noise of the freeway and glanced in the mirror to catch the faint flashes of red and blue. Well, now seemed as good a time as any. He didn't want to bring any innocents along with him and he certainly didn't want them to get _his_ satisfaction. Smiling a broken smile, he gave the gas a final stomp before veering into the wall.

No scenes of his childhood flashed before his eyes, no hint of fear or pain ever coursed through his body. All he felt was a nothingness that swallowed him whole. But before that, in his final instant of awareness, he could swear that he heard Noodle scream his name in pure despair. And that, if anything, was his sole regret.

"STUART!" Noodle cried brokenly, still clasping the phone tightly. She saw their number had called her cell several times, but alas, she always kept it on silent when she was at work. If only she'd forgotten this one time.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am. Truly, I am." She could tell the man on the other end meant it. However, that didn't mean that everything was going to be okay.

"Please tell me," she practically begged, "is he still... alive?" She had to force herself to say it both to keep her fears at bay and to brace herself for the very good possibility that he may not be.

"Yes." The voice gave her new hope with that one word. "But..." But. That next word nearly destroyed it again. "He's in critical condition. He's been taken to Memorial hospital to be treated for his wounds. They're likely doing surgery as we speak." That definitely didn't help the fear gnawing her insides out. "I've already notified another friend of his... Murdoc Niccals, I believe. I-"

"Have you told his parents?" She didn't want to make him suspect her of something but she could not allow them to know of this. Not yet. It may very well break their little hearts to hear of their only son's _second_ suicide attempt.

"N-no. Not yet," he stammered, a little taken aback.

"I'd appreciate it..." she had to take a shaky breath to keep the sobs from overtaking her completely. "Please. Don't tell them. We will handle it... Just don't..."

"Unless you're a close relative of his you don't really have any real say, ma'am."

"I understand that," she ground out. "But please. If you tell them now... like this... You'll only be doing more damage."

The officer could very well hear the pain and fear in her voice at the thought of this man's parents knowing. He was no expert, but from the sounds of it there were a lot instabilities involved, most of which were likely to be the mental variety. So after a few moments of consideration, he decided to agree.

"...Very well... I'll tell them that you're his sister and that I've verified it already. I'm taking a huge risk here for this though, Miss." He could hear some of the tension released in the sigh on the other end and decided that it was worth it. Clearly, this was one broken family and he didn't think he could live with himself if he were to be the cause of its total destruction.

"Thank you so much, officer. I promise that if anything should happen, I'll vouche for you. Right now, however, I must get to the hospital."

"Of course. Goodbye. And God bless you." He hung up, his words lifting off a small amount of fear. Noodle stood, still holding the phone, and tried to focus on nothing but her breathing. She would not let herself fall into the same panic that she had when she was younger.

She marched outside.

Murdoc sat in the waiting room, tapping his foot endlessly and practically burning alive with the need for a smoke. However, the hospital did not allow such a thing and he was not going to find a secluded spot outside lest he miss a vital update on his singer's condition. Although he hadn't heard anything as of late. He glanced at the tiny wall clock and noted that it had only been thirty minutes since his arrival. It certainly felt a lot longer than that. He likely wouldn't be hearing anything for hours. The bassist pacified his fears by reasoning that it would be best for them not to give him an update until it was well past anyone's bedtime. If they came out now it would mean the worst. Better later than sooner, in this case.

He sat back and tried to relax. To think of anything but men in too white clothes saying that they had done all they could but it wasn't enough. Stuart was dead.

He hummed some of his favorite songs just to hear something besides the buzz of the hospital. The smell alone was bad enough. He'd never liked hospitals; who did? The smell of life and death and medicine, not to mention all the cleaners the staff used to try and rid the place of the stink. It all mixed together in a horrid cloud of nauseating vapor that invaded one's nostrils and refused to leave. Perhaps the worst thing about this situation was the feeling Murdoc had.

The last time 2D had done something like this was ages ago, back in their early years when they were only just getting off the ground and making themselves known. It hadn't been so bad then, at least, the bassist didn't think it was. And yet a twenty-something Stuart saw it fit to take his own life by overdosing. Fast forward to the present and he'd just tried to kill himself in a wreck. Oh, where did it all go wrong? If only he'd taken the first time as a sign to stop abusing the poor man then he wouldn't even be here right now. Why was he such a bastard? No. That didn't even begin to cover it. He was a _monster._ He was a horrible creature of spite and a monster in every single sense of the word.

He was his father.

That realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he stopped his nervous foot-tapping in shock. The thought had passed his mind more than a few times in his life but it had never been truer until now. All the torture and misery he caused 2D... what did that man ever do to deserve any of it? He had literally been minding his own business at his job until Murdoc smashed his car through the building and into the boy's face. He wasn't even in his twenties then, still a teenager.

That should've been the end of it. But it wasn't. For reasons he did not want to understand he'd been tasked with looking after the comatose young man along with community service. Instead of treating the to-be singer with the utmost care he beat the shit of him everyday both out of spite and just to see if he'd wake up. And it only got worse from there.

Murdoc pressed his hands into his face as hard as he could and took a very deep breath. This was no time to have a nervous breakdown. He was Murdoc-fucking-Niccals and he did _not_ break down. He removed his hands and leaned back, continuing his foot solo. The others would surely come soon enough and spare him from his self-loathing.

A distant rumble woke the bassist from his light nap. At first he thought it was thunder, but then the sound came again. And again. With each passing second the noise increased in volume and before he knew it everyone was frozen in confusion and slight fear. Objects were rattling, car alarms went off, and the windows shook as whatever it was approached. It took him a minute but he eventually realized what was going on.

Rushing outside Murdoc saw none other than Russel towering high above him, Noodle perched on his shoulder like she belonged there.

"Russ? What are you doing here?" He had to shout in order for the behemoth to hear him.

The drummer lowered himself down until Noodle was able to just leap right off him. She landed next to Murdoc like the badass little ninja he remembered.

"Russel-san and I are here for Toochi," the guitarist said, crossing her arms. "How is he?" Though she tried to hide it the worry was obvious.

"He... He ain't doin' so good, luv. I haven't heard anything new in about an hour now."

"I guess that's good then," Russel sighed, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible lest he cause another apocalypse. "The longer they're in there with him, the better he's gonna be. Means they're takin' their time, right?" Murdoc merely shrugged.

"Russel-san, please try to find somewhere to sit. I promise I'll come find you as soon as we hear something."

"Baby girl-"

"Russel. Everybody is still panicked from your arrival. If you stay squatted in front of the hospital like this they might call the military."

"Or NASA, if they see that full moon of yours." Murdoc may have been smirking as he said this but he didn't laugh until the others did first. The three of them released some of their tension through Murdoc's witty joke before finally splitting up.

"As soon as you hear something," Russel reminded them as he stomped away to go hide out by the parking garage. Noodle nodded in response before heading in with Murdoc.

"Care to tell me something, Murdoc-san?" she asked as they sat beside each other. He simply looked at her, wanting to avoid the subject. Noodle sighed. "Murdoc, please," she tried again. "I know you blame yourself even if you won't fully admit it but... Listen, I have to know about whatever happened yesterday. Maybe not Russel. Toochi can tell him if he wants to. But me? I should know. And I'd like to know now from you in the even that... Stuart doesn't make it to tell me himself. So please."

"...Alright, luv. If you insist." Murdoc hesitated for a moment before starting. "I was downstairs running my radio station when I heard him yelling. He was screaming all sorts of obscenities at nothing before he started yelling at me directly. Er... maybe not me directly. I don't know if he knew I could hear him, but whatever the reason he started screaming about me. This was a short while after I'd just hit him and chewed him out so I figured he was just in a bad mood.

"Anyway, I went upstairs to go tear him a new one but... when I opened the door he was just lying there. He looked so pathetic with how he was curled up whimpering on the floor... all his pills flung about like he'd had a fit not five minutes ago. Well, he actually probably did. That was probably what all the screaming was."

Noodle could feel her heart ache at Murdoc's description of 2D. Sure, he'd seemed so sad and lost when she went to speak to him but she never would've guessed he had just recovered from some sort of breakdown. Although recovery was obviously not what had happened.

"When you saw him... would he talk to you?" She had to know if he specifically refused to speak to her about it.

"No. Not at first. He just laid there and whined. So I sat next to him for a bit to try and get it out of him. I think... I think he may have been broken for a long time, Noods." Murdoc couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes.

Noodle almost made some bitter remark but bit her tongue. She had to remind herself that now was not the time for fighting with Murdoc on his treatment of 2D. Instead, she responded with, "Well, I think we've all had some form of that idea, Murdoc. You remember the first time, don't you? And it wasn't even that bad back then. At least, not like it is now." Murdoc shook his head at this.

"You don't understand, Noodle. I was talking about before that. Before us. Stuart may have always been like this."

She felt her anger rise at that statement. "Are you saying that Toochi has always been a depressed wreck of a man? Are you suggesting that your treatment of him had no effect on his mental state?"

Murdoc's eyes widened at the size of the landmine he'd just stepped on. "Er-No, luv. That wasn't what I meant at all-"

"Then what did you mean, Murdoc?" The guitarist was beginning to raise her voice and the other few patrons in the room glanced at them. The man in question simply loosened his shirt collar and gulped. "I'm waiting," she said dangerously.

"Noods, listen. I'm not saying that what I did was right. None of it was, ok? I'm a sick bastard with a sick sense of humor and I deserve to burn for all I've done to 2D. What I meant by him being broken was that he may have always had a bit of a problem with depression. Maybe not even depression; maybe he just doesn't know how to handle stress." He let that sink in for a moment.

Noodle's anger melted away almost instantly. It wasn't something she had ever considered about the young man. While it was obvious that Murdoc's horrid treatment of Stuart had done nothing good for his mental state over the years it still seemed a bit odd for the singer to react to such things so dramatically. Sure, she honestly couldn't blame him for it now-with how everything had gone downhill after their final album together it was a wonder it didn't happen sooner-but his very first attempt at suicide seemed both unnecessary and somewhat petty. Things weren't really _that_ bad, were they? Whenever Noodle recalled the band's early years it was usually with a fondness that could only be reserved for the rag-tag bunch of weirdos they all were. Even in those times when Murdoc would abuse the singer she never once thought it severe enough to damage him so completely. She wasn't sure which upset her more: the fact that the man she was closest too had slipped far enough away from her that not even she could stop him from suicide, or the fact that she never even saw it coming.

Murdoc contemplated what he just said. The relief that Noodle was no longer angry only lasted for a second before he thought about Stuart's mental state. Now that he had said it he couldn't stop thinking about it. It all made sense. The long, hard years the singer had endured played a much larger role in their current situation but before all of that... The bassist couldn't stop the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. If something as simple as poor stress management had been the secondary cause for 2D's suicide attempts then that meant that all of it could've been prevented if they'd only stopped the primary cause: Murdoc himself. The guilt came rushing back to him full force and he nearly choked out a small sob of regret. He hadn't meant for it to turn out like this. He really, truly hadn't. It was just so hard for him to stop. Stuart was such an easy target and the bassist enjoyed taking out all his anger and frustration on him because he knew he wouldn't fight back. The younger man wouldn't dare lift a finger against him lest he unleash the wrath of a caged demon. Though that tended to happen regardless.

"I'm so sorry, Noods," Murdoc whispered, bangs covering his eyes. Noodle snapped out of her reverie at the sound of the bassist's voice. She didn't think she'd ever heard him sound so sincere.

"Murdoc," she whispered back, placing a hand on his arm. "Let's just... talk about this later, ok?" He nodded as she rubbed his upper arm a few times. She wasn't sure she really wanted to continue this conversation anymore than he did. Somehow, trying to figure out 2D's psyche was the most horrific discussion she'd ever had. So, for once in her life, she settled on the easy way out and simply chose not to discuss it.

2D groggily opened his eyes and could just barely make out the outlines of the room he was in. It was shrouded in total darkness but he could still tell that it wasn't his own. Either this was an unusual form of the afterlife or worse: he'd survived and was now in a hospital. The steady beeping and rubber tube coming from the rod on his right likely proved the latter. He sighed. This wasn't what he wanted at all. Was he so pathetic that he couldn't even get his own suicide right?

The singer tested himself to see if perhaps he actually had succeeded in dying. He gave his fingers the slightest twitch and found that he could hardly even feel them. The same went for his toes. Trying not to get too excited he tried lifting an arm, the one with the IV hooked to it. It was a little discomforting but it did not hurt nearly as bad as he thought it would. Thinking he was truly fine he went to sit up. The sudden, razor sharp pain that shot through his entire person confirmed his worst fears. Settling back down and trying to swallow the miserable whine that threatened to escape he once again reevaluated himself. After that initial jolt of pain he found that his body was much more sensitive, having seemingly dissipated the sedatives and pain meds that were probably pumped into him. He lifted his head a fraction and tried again with his fingers. This time he discovered that only one hand could move them; his left hand was encased in a cast and everything past his elbow was almost completely numb. For now. His legs were covered by a thin sheet but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't feel them properly. They didn't seem to be broken but for some reason something was stopping them from giving even a shudder. A horrifying thought occurred to him and before he could remind himself to be delicate he jerked his lower back.

This time he screamed out. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and immediately decided that moving anything else was a terrible idea. At least he knew his back wasn't broken. He didn't think he could live with himself if he weren't able to at least stand properly. Not to mention the burden that would put on his bandmates-

The door to his room swung open revealing a middle-aged woman with her brown hair done up in a bun. "Mr. Pot?" she asked, mildly shocked at the sight of him.

2D was pretty sure his heart actually skipped a beat as soon as he thought of his bandmates. What would they say to him? What would they _think_ of him? There was no way they'd ever trust him with anything again after this. It was why he was hoping that he hadn't survived. It wasn't because he'd have to pick up the pieces of his life that he so recklessly shattered, it was because they'd believe he would need help doing so. Surely they'd take him to therapy sessions and keep a watchful eye on him now. The very high possibility that he wouldn't even be allowed to use the toilet without somebody outside the door listening terrified him. He did not want to spend the rest of his life constantly under suicide watch by the only people he could call a family. Nothing could be more painful.

The nurse returned moments later with two other nurses and the doctor. "Mr. Pot?" the man tried. He received no response. "Check his vitals," he ordered while jotting down a few notes on his clipboard. The trio of nurses did so while the doctor tried a few more times to get his patient to at least acknowledge his presence.

"Still nothing..." he muttered, staring at the young man's tear-stained face.

"Everything's normal, Doctor Mason," the nurse with the bun said. "His pulse and blood pressure are a little high but I think that's just due to stress." She glanced back over at 2D and noted that he was still silently crying.

"Do you suppose he's just asleep and having a bad dream?" one of the other nurses wondered aloud, slowly waving a hand in front of his face.

"Get me out of here..." 2D whispered. Dr. Mason waved the three nurses out of the room before moving to sit beside the bed.

"Now, please, Mr. Pot. I know that this is probably a frightening experience for you and that you just want to be home with your friends and family but-"

"No," he muttered, stopping the man in his tracks. "I shouldn't have even survived. You can't keep me here like this. I don't want to get better. I don't want to go home. The only thing I want is to die. I can't possibly go back to life as I knew it after this." He began sobbing despite the spikes of pain it caused. Suddenly his physical injuries didn't seem so bad anymore.

"Mr. Pot..." The doctor trailed off, unsure of how to string his words together. While he'd had quite a bit of experience giving the bad news to grief-stricken families he'd never really dealt with someone depressed and suicidal. He considered rounding up the hospital's primary therapist for this one. Another look at the wreck of a man made him drop the idea altogether; he wasn't likely to accept it.

"I'm sorry," Stuart finally said, having regained himself. "It's just... I... This is all a huge shock to me..."

"I... I see..."

"What happened?"

Dr. Mason awkwardly coughed and glanced at his notes, pretending to read them. The details he'd gotten from the police clearly pointed to an attempted suicide, as did the man's earlier statements. He decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, however. "Well, Mr. Pot, you were in a car accident. They told me you were speeding down the highway when your car suddenly veered into the wall. We had to perform surgery on you right away. You had shrapnel stuck in you and a surprising amount of internal injuries. Any recollection?"

2D stared blankly on for a few moments. Of course he remembered the crash. How could he not? His foot was pressed firmly on the pedal, his eyes were so full of tears he couldn't see, there were sirens and lights behind him, and there was that awful, grating wailing going on inside his head. Or maybe he really was screaming. That part he was unsure of. Perhaps the clearest memory was the sudden loud, jarring screech of tires and metal on concrete before everything became nothing. Somehow he remembered that strange out-of-body weightlessness and absolute silence more perfectly than he did his own name. And that was something that truly terrified him more than anything. Even more than facing the others. It'd be living in his nightmares for years to come.

Realizing he'd been zoning out-and shuddering-2D finally responded. "I remember. I remember it all clearly. And before you get on me about what happened, about what I did, can I please just have a few minutes?"

"O-of course," the doctor stuttered. He was almost shocked by the man's words. It almost seemed like he had some sort of epiphany.

Dr. Mason stood and made his way to the door. "Before I go," he started, turning back. "I'd like you to get more rest first, but would it be alright if I told your, uh, family that you're awake? They don't have to visit you now, of course."

Stuart thought about it for a minute before deciding that avoiding it was impossible. He'd only be prolonging the inevitable. "That's fine," he said finally. With that the doctor shut the door behind himself, leaving the bluenette surrounded by total darkness and his own demons.

When they were finally allowed to see Stuart, Noodle, Murdoc, and Russel didn't hesitate to rush up to the hospital. It had been nearly a week since the incident and despite the doctors constantly reassuring them that the singer's injuries would heal and that he just needed rest, not excitement, they couldn't help but worry. Today, however, was the day that they could finally go see the man.

The trip to the hospital, short as it was thanks to Russel, felt like an eternity. Noodle and Murdoc simply sat there in solemn silence and stared at each other or the tops of buildings in the distance while Russel carried them through the city. No one had to say a word for them to know that they were all terrified of what they'd find. It wasn't often they were all on the same page but right now they all had the same fears racing through their minds: What were they going to do now? What were they _supposed_ to do?

What was poor Stuart going to do?

When they arrived at the hospital Russel dropped them off at the front before going off to find a way to get to the window of Stu's room without scaring anybody. There was no way he was going to sit this one out.

Meanwhile, Noodle and Murdoc had just gotten off the elevator and were headed down the hall to the singer's room. He'd been moved out of the ICU a couple days ago and was placed up on the fifth floor, into a room he thankfully didn't have to share. Noodle reached the door first and wrapped a hand around the handle, waiting for the bassist to catch up before sucking in a breath to steel herself and walking in. By the time the door was latched shut again Russel's gigantic face filled the window and Murdoc went over to open it so he could be a part of the conversation. Then all three of them looked over to the bed and waited in awkward silence.

Stuart simply sat there staring at his hand in his lap, the other still mostly encased in a cast. He could feel their eyes on him, could feel them waiting for answers, but like the time before with Noodle there was something stopping him from talking and he wasn't sure what. He was just as unsure about what it was he would say if he _could_ speak. I'm sorry? Please try to understand? He was seriously doubting there even _was_ anything appropriate to say here.

"Toochi."

Stuart finally looked up to see none other than Noodle step forward, an even frown across her features. She sounded gentle and calming, his name not coming off as a question or an attempt at attention, but rather a simple statement that was somehow meant to make him feel better. And somehow, it did. She wasn't angry, or upset, or even disappointed. No. She was sad for him, because he'd been so miserable all this time and had done nothing but bottle it up and now, now look at what he's done. Look at the horrible mess he'd made out of pure selfish frustration, and for what? What exactly was he thinking would happen if he was gone? That he'd somehow get a second chance not to fuck things up?

Noodle wrapped her arms around the singer as tightly as his condition would allow and let him sob helplessly into her shoulder. She felt horrible for this. Out of all of them, she should have been the one to see this coming. She should have been the one to try and cheer Stuart up after Plastic Beach. _She_ should have been the one to sense something was wrong, very wrong, and take appropriate actions to right it. Not wait until the last second to make a half-assed extremist attempt at repair. She should have _known_ that taking Stuart's pills like that was the ultimate insult that would finally drive him over the edge. Not because he thought they felt he couldn't be trusted, but because _she_ felt he couldn't be trusted. And if Noodle didn't even believe in him anymore then what did he have left?

"Toochi. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I should've done something sooner. I should have tried to talk to you, not treat you as if nothing had ever gone wrong in our lives." Noodle couldn't stop the stream of tears that had begun to flow. This was all her fault. If she had seen all the signs sooner and tried to do something about it, they wouldn't be here right now.

The singer merely cried harder at Noodle's words. She was pinning this all on herself. He was the one with the problems, the one who tried to kill himself out of his own self-loathing, and yet, here she was, already taking the blame. How could she be so forgiving? She was acting as though she were the one who convinced him to do it in the first place.

"Noodle," he finally managed, having regained control of himself. "Noodle, listen." She brought her face out from the crook of his neck and he felt his heart seize up at how pitiful she looked. He absently wiped away some of her tears with his good hand, trying to ignore the guilt. _You caused this,_ it said. He simply crushed it back down.

"Noodle, luv, _I'm_ the one who should be apologizing here. None of this is your fault." He let his fingers brush over her cheek, the dampness still prominent. "You didn't do anything wrong here. I should have tried to talk to you about it."

"Stuart-"

"No! I'm the one who should've come to you. You did the right thing, treating me like everything was going back to normal. I appreciated it, it helped me cope. Back then I wasn't ready to talk about it. I just wanted to pretend it never happened, and maybe that wasn't healthy but I didn't care. All I wanted was for things to go back to the way they were. I knew we could never be the same again but I at least wanted to pretend.

"The nightmares, the abuse, the shitty apartment, they were all things I couldn't ignore no matter how hard I tried. I shouldn't have been trying to though. I should have gotten all this off my chest way sooner and then maybe I wouldn't have fucked up so badly. I wouldn't have fucked myself up so badly." The bluenette let out a tired sigh. His chest was starting to hurt and he could feel the beginnings of a migraine.

"Stuart. You didn't..." Noodle was cut off by a raised hand.

"Let's be real here, luv," Stuart sighed, exhausted of this whole discussion. "If I could handle myself better than none of this ever would have happened. If I wasn't such a damn junkie I'd probably lead a much better life." He closed his eyes and leaned back into the bed a little, apparently having sat up some during his speech.

Noodle shot a worried glance at Murdoc, frightened at how spot on his logic earlier had been. The bassist didn't look too thrilled at being right either.

"We should leave," Russel breathed out as quietly as he could. This whole discussion had made him feel sick to the stomach. While he knew from the start that the singer was probably going to be horribly morose, he was never quite expecting it to be like this. A small part of him had honestly believed that this was somehow fixable. That by seeing them and knowing that he'd survived was somehow supposed to make the young man brighten back into his old self again. Just like the first time. It was a foolish thought and he hated himself for having ever assumed that that was the case the last time. Stuart, he now realized, was a man that was terrifyingly good at stepford smiling. So good, in fact, that he even managed to fool himself for a while.

"C'mon, guys. Let's give the man some time." Russel stole one last glance at the singer, who was already starting to fall asleep. At least, that's what it appeared to be. He wasn't really sure what to think anymore. The only thing he could tell right now was that the guy had clearly had some sort of epiphany and would need time to sort it out. He wasn't one to interfere with that.

Noodle merely nodded and waited for Russel to step away before walking over to the bedside and placing a chaste kiss on the singer's lips. She gave him one final onceover before joining Murdoc at the door. He opened it for her and they walked into the hallway together.

"You were right," she said as soon as the door latched. He looked at her in surprise and then guilt.

"I wasn't trying to be, luv." He shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her to the elevators. They reached them just as one opened and a couple stepped out, carrying balloons. Noodle stepped inside and was about to hit the button for the first floor when she noticed that Murdoc hadn't joined her and was fumbling with his pockets outside.

"What's wrong," she asked, about to step out.

"Er, nothing," he said just a little too quickly, stopping her. "I just, uh... Shit. It seems I've lost my lighter." She quirked an unseen brow at this. "I really wanted a smoke in there and was about to light one but then I figured it wasn't worth the hassle of being ripped a new one so I tried to jam everything back into my pockets before anyone noticed and I must have dropped the lighter in there." He took a breath after this and let it out with much more force than necessary. "I'll be right back. Meet you out front." And he sauntered off before anything else could be said. Noodle simply hummed to herself and held the doors for an elderly man in a wheelchair and his aid.

When Murdoc stepped back into the room again, it felt like nothing had changed. Well, he really wasn't sure what he expected. Of course Stuart wouldn't be up and about. Not like this. Not after this. There was no way any of them could back to normal after this.

"Stu?" he called, unsure of himself. He didn't want to actually go over and wake the younger man up if he could help it. He gave himself a fifty-fifty chance. If the singer didn't respond to his voice then he was leaving. He could do this again tomorrow. "Hey, faceache," he tried again, trying to get a rise out of him. Nothing. The singer's eyes were closed and his chest was moving up and down peacefully despite the broken rib. Or ribs. He had been too in shock to really listen to what the injuries were. He was too focused on trying not to strangle the doctor out of frustration.

Thinking that Stuart was really out like a light, the bassist turned to leave.

"Muds." Shit.

"Oh. You're awake, are you?" Murdoc turned back to see two dark orbs staring at him with a look he couldn't quite interpret and wasn't sure he wanted to. He gulped. Why had he opted to do this alone?

 _Because of your fucking pride, Niccals. That's why._

 _…Shut up, Dad._

"Sooo… How... How ya feelin'?" The glare didn't ease up even after the bassist's nervous grin. The older man grimaced and pulled on his shirt collar. This wasn't going as planned. "Look, fa-er, Stu. I, uh... I know that none of what I'm about to say is gonna mean shit to ya now but... I never meant for-"

"Shut up, Murdoc, just shut up." Stuart's harsh tone bit into the bassist and he snapped his mouth shut with a click. "You know, you're absolutely right. There isn't a single thing that just came out of your mouth that does mean shit to me right now." He brought his hand to his face and massaged between his eyes. "And since we're both on the same page of this being a pointless waste of time, why don't you just leave?" When he looked at Murdoc again he could tell his words had shocked-and maybe even hurt-him a little. He felt sick to his stomach. "Noodle didn't put you up to this, did she." It wasn't a question.

Murdoc shook his head and simply stared numbly at him, waiting for a response. It was obvious the guilt had been eating him if he'd come here on his own to try and apologize.

"I'm sorry, Muds. I..."

"Eh. Don't worry about it. I don't blame you." The older man turned to leave. "I don't know if this is right," he started, looking back, "but I'll leave you be for now. Just don't think I'm..." He paused for a moment and then looked away before silently leaving, the latched door once again blanketing the singer in darkness.

2D sighed. He knew exactly what it was that Murdoc wanted to say.

The days that followed were nothing short of stressful. Medical bills. Therapy classes. What to do about Stuart's parents, who had heard about the ordeal on some sleazy radio news station that didn't respect anyone's privacy.

The eviction.

There was no stopping it, Noodle supposed. After all, they no longer had any sources of income. Murdoc had revealed he'd had a backup load of cash this whole time, something that would put him and Russel at odds for weeks to come, and that he was planning on only using it to buy a new place. Russel was not amused. Despite all that had happened and was happening, Noodle couldn't help but smile. Stress was nothing new to them. 2D's suicide attempt aside, they'd all been through much, much worse. They could do this. If they were already starting to bicker like old times then there was a strong chance that they could overcome this obstacle in their relationship. All they had to do was keep trying. Things were already starting to look up.

2D had shown signs of getting better. Small signs, like smiling a little wider whenever she greeted him, or letting out quiet chuckles whenever Russel threatened Murdoc. Speaking of, she wasn't sure what had happened between them but ever since that day he 'forgot his lighter' they had seemed to be on slightly better terms. She wasn't sure what exactly it was but this time she didn't dare try to dwell on it. She'd happily take anything remotely close to good news in spades.

"Look alive, everyone!" she said, clapping her hands together. "We've got a new home to find!" 2D smiled a bit, Murdoc leaning over the bed railing to show him a bunch of houses he'd saved on a tablet he'd gotten from heaven knows where. He still felt miserable, both physically and mentally, but he couldn't argue that it wasn't getting better. Things hadn't gone at all how he thought they would and he was extremely thankful for that. His bandmates-Noodle especially-weren't treating him like a burden that'd have to be kept on suicide watch. They were treating him like a man who simply needed time and help to overcome his demons.

Things couldn't have been better.

* * *

 **A/N: Wow. This came out WAY longer than I ever thought it would. Initially, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with it, but after writing the first few paragraphs over the span of a couple days and then just going nuts and writing at least half of it in the span of one before getting stuck, I have to say I'm pretty satisfied with this one. It took a whole lot of revisions and a whole lot of time for me to get this thing done but it's totally worth it. I can finally say it's finished. Now, if only I could say the same for literally everything else I've ever written.**

 **Anyway, hopefully you all enjoy this and I do hope the ending didn't come off as cheesy or anything, kind of like the last time. This thing took such a dark turn though that I kind of wanted to brighten it up a little at the end. It was originally meant to be a sort of analysis at 2D's depression as well as a way for me to experiment a new writing style, but it just got so, well, depressing. This, along with Clockwork, is easily the darkest, most depressing thing I've ever written. I think it's on to much happier stories now that I've gotten that out my system. Please let me know what you think. Peace!**


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